The Truth About You

You’re not the perfect one for me.

You’re the rightest one.

And no, I don’t mean that in the very sense of the word

I’m talking about how you fit with me just fine with your imperfection

I’m talking about the hesitation in your chuckle

It speaks volume of your uncertainties, as if loving me will bruise you, like a brick to the head

I’m talking of your eyes, the sheer force of the whirlpool they cause when you stare

It reins me in, deep, into the abyss of the overwhelming compassion they hold

I’m talking about your hands

Of the longing they speak with and the attention they sway me with

That yanks back my being every time I want to walk away

I’m talking about your finger tips

I bite my tongue and lick them when they smoother me with sweet batters of trust

And your lips? They never whisper empty nothings when I need them

You don’t love fiercely and intensely

You burn with it

You leave scars and imprints etched around my heart

You thrust deep into my cores with your quirks

You’ve made my body your museum just so you alone can fit into it

Just you, no one else

You flow like dark waters under the moonlight

Twinkling and shimmering with the afterglow of your thoughts for me

You’re like glowing embers, fanned by the heats of certainty

You’re like water, slipping through fingers but solid enough to keep me afloat

You’re abstract paintings of raw primal passion,

Of marks of approval after a long hard heated session of sensual art

Each stroke full and deep with the occasional flick of the brush along the edges

Filling me with streaks of coloured light and the odd shade of gray

Two different beings but together, we create a masterpiece

A work of art across the dark canvas of a sweaty nights spent gasping

You probably aren’t the perfect one

Or the rightest one for that matter

You’re simply The One

Written by Vhar